An Alien in Worm
by OriginalRabbits
Summary: Trying to save the world is hard, especially when your working for the people who are part of the problem. Well no one said this would be easy.
1. Chapter 1

Vice Director Andrew Matthews looked up from the computer he was working on. The informant, a tall, lanky man with blonde hair, frowned at Matthews answer.

"She said you were to come immediately."

Matthews leveled a glare at the PRT trooper before answering.

"This document contains our funding list for the next six months," he gestured at the door,

"Tell her I'll be there in five minutes."

The trooper stood there for a moment before letting out a grudging "Yes sir" and leaving.

Matthews let out a breath he didn't know he was closing.

That had been close. Quickly opening the browsing window, he checked the counter on the Tinkerbay website he had been browsing. He typed in his bid before sitting back to wait.

He sat up at the thirty second mark, positioning himself to retaliate in case someone made a counter bid. He'd lost his last three auctions that way and wasn't eager to lose another.

Two seconds, he clenched his free hand up, the other on the mouse, clicker finger cocked like a gun.

One second, his finger twitched, a…n…..d sold to JohnSmith199a.

Matthews let go of the mouse lest it explode in his fist.

How?

How did they always beat him?

Was there some sort of secret bidding button that he didn't know about? Some secret technique that all the other bidders knew that he didn't. Life wasn't fair!

He clicked the browser shut and stood; grabbing his gun off the desk he put it in the holster, he might as well see Piggot now.

He entertained himself on the walk with what Emily was mad about now. Another budget cut, perhaps an info leak, maybe one of her capes had done something stupid.

He scoffed at that, earning himself an odd look from the Janitor he shared the elevator with. He wouldn't take any best on that last one. Capes were always doing something stupid.

Even if they weren't, he still wouldn't take a bet on it. Not when Director Piggot was going to be the judge.

Many words could be used to describe Emily, kind hearted not being one of them.

Well, probably not. It could just be that she really hated her job. Hated her job and everybody in it.

Food for thought.

He moved aside as another person came into the elevator. He should have taken the stairs. He'd grown to use to the tinker made elevators with their smooth, almost instant, transportation.

Several minutes more and he was standing outside of Director Piggot's office door, waiting for the secretary to let him in.

Several more minutes and he was in, standing in front of a fuming Director Piggot and wishing he had been working on the budget list when she'd summoned him.

It might have given him a head's up on the situation. Unfortunately, he had done the report a week ago and many of the finer details had slipped his mind. He'd actually been prepared for this but after three days with no word he'd figured she'd read the budget and had accepted it.

It was just typical that his efficiency would be rewarded like this.

"…halved the budget for the containment foam."

He kept a stoic face though he inwardly winced at that. Containment foam was the only way of containing some of the stronger villains in the bay, not unless they wanted to go to more lethal methods. A stance the Protectorate couldn't afford to take with the current budget.

"Wallis is getting on my last…"

Matthews nodded along, Emily must be really mad to be using a cape's real name, he was long accustomed to dealing with her rants, having been her Vice Director for five years and semi confident for three.

If these rants counted as confidence.

"… vehicles need replacing because of Squeeler."

Honestly, he understood why she was angry, he would be to if he wasn't in the know about Brockton Bay's true purpose. Cauldron's test. He kept the distaste from showing on his face. He would never quite understand just what brand of stupidity was driving those people though he had some guesses. His main theory being Contessa's powers really shouldn't be used for anything that isn't extremely, extremely short term.

Of course he was a bit biased about her having had to duck what he assumed were her problems for years.

Being a blind spot to a precog when no one else was had led him to seeing some truly bizarre things.

"… empire has made another move into the boardwalk and we're getting a budget cut."

'Another open move,' he thought, though he didn't voice it, offering a grunt instead, Emily liked her officers to be brief.

She let out a sigh, letting herself slump against the tinker tech office chair she was sitting in before leveling him with a stare.

He straightened from his slouch.

"Have someone get in contact with New Wave, see if we can organize a fund raiser, I'll have to play with Carol Dallon but it will be worth it if it helps make up some of our funds."

"Make sure the Mayor is briefed on the situation, maybe he'll actually be motivated into doing something when it's his own son suffering the consequences. "

"Perhaps a loan." He couldn't help but try to put some levity into the situation.

Her stare could have shattered glass.

"Make sure someone fixes the intercom. Dismissed."

He gave a salute, who cares that he didn't need to, and turned marching quickly out the door, there was another auction that should be finishing soon and he wanted that 92 inch TV. 

Andrew yawned, unlocking the door to his large downtown apartment.

Today had been a very harrowing day trying to get a hold of Mayor Christner, simultaneously getting ahold of Carol Dallon, finding out why the intercom wasn't working yet, along with dealing with his regular tasks and the overall disappointment of losing the bid on a 92 inch TV.

He sat down on his couch, emptying his pocket he threw the keys towards the door, a blue glow lighting the surroundings as space warped the keys landing on the kitchen stove.

He frowned, three years of watching Vista and he still couldn't warp space with any consistency.

Rather than getting up he focused on the keys again, causing them to float until they deposited themselves in the tray by the door.

Really, he should be doing the same to his coat but after a day like today he'd rather not have use any more mental muscles than the minimum. He floated the remote over from his pitiful 48 inch TV (with surround sound) opening the take out boxes with the other.

It was a little risky buying Asian takeout in a PRT uniform but he hadn't gotten anywhere in life playing it safe and wasn't about to start now.

The remote met his hand and he turned on the TV, shifting it to Nature channel. It was a rerun of a coral reef episode but he'd always found the ocean interesting didn't change the channel.

Not for the first time did he contemplate whether it would have been better to remain a vigilante. Sure, the Protectorate payed well, and the hours weren't to bad but having to deal with the budget issue was seriously starting to ruin his day.

What was Cauldron hoping to find out anyway? Putting a bunch of people who you know are geared to conflict in charge of an area is not going to lead to anything other than disaster. Not for the first time he considered if he shouldn't have stayed a vigilante.

He had to remind himself how that had worked out the first time.

He should have picked power manipulation, but he'd wanted to be original and picked Alien origin, backed up by a Blank, Mental Fortress, and Noctis.

It had not gone as he'd thought. Chiefly because he'd thought he was just filling out a CYOA for fun and had been doing it in his head at that. He'd woken up the next morning in downtown Detroit, twenty years in the past and with not a clue what was happening. He'd managed to figure out his situation after seeing the date on the newspaper though he didn't actually believe he had powers until the moment he'd instinctively used them to force a soda from a vending machine. Thankfully no one had been around to see him fleeing the remains of it.

The same couldn't be said for his first cape fight. Bounce had been a kid friendly villain, as odd as that may sound, a small man wearing a Tigger Costume. He'd routinely rob local stores, bouncing away before police could arrive or a hero could catch them.

Bounce had been fleeing the scene, bouncing away, his stripped costume tail flapping in the wind. He wasn't too good at range so when Bounce jumped, he created an angled wall, attempting to make him Bounce back towards him where he could have an easier time apprehending him.

Bounce had come down. Bounce didn't bounce. It'd been a tragedy witnessed by hundreds, many of them children, the bank he'd robbed being right next too the park which was doing a Detective For Kids seminar.

Apparently powers that heavily rely on dimension trickery don't do well against a power that goes through dimensions.

It'd not gone much better with other cape fights. Some wounded, some maimed, most killed, the brutes and breakers being something he had a particularly hard time not hurting. How do you tell a brute that it would really be a bad idea to tank his shield?

It didn't help that he always had a little more to give, a little more force, a little more power, an extra push that cape powers couldn't give. Certainly, there was exceptions like some capes being able to stretch the range of their powers when stressed. But by and large powers were static, Alexandria wasn't getting any stronger no matter how much she wanted it, and Shielders shields would take so much force and no more, no matter how hard he tried.

He sighed, putting down the empty box of take out. He glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning when he saw the time. He had to be at work in six hours.

He glanced at his room, he really should practice more using Vista's ability, warping space was a useful ability and one that had a few potential uses against Scion. Well, maybe, he wasn't sure what that golden beam he used was and his shields broke as easy as any under most Blaster fire. He supposed he could just tank the blast and go all Super Saiyan but he wasn't sure he could handle the collateral damage even if he did win by some miracle win.

A glow appeared in his hand, traveling outward until it had enveloped the take out boxes, intensified for a moment before fading away, the takeout boxes gone.

The X-Blob flicked on, the remote shooting into his waiting hand. Thinking about Scion always ruined his mood, he'd work on Vista's ability tomorrow. Besides, he could use a little relaxation, the Director was meeting with both Carol Dallon and the Mayor tomorrow. Being Vice Director was suffering.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2 - The Sequel

Carol Dallon was not pleasant. He knew she wasn't pleasant. The Director knew she wasn't pleasant. He'd wager to bet the Mayor knew she wasn't pleasant.

The only person who didn't seem to realize they weren't pleasant was Carol Dallon.

"New Wave will not take part in any charity events that raise money meant to be used for an unelected bureaucracy."

Andrew wanted to comment on how that didn't stop her from paying taxes, something that did go to the youth group but she was still speaking and it would be rude to interrupt.

"Our group was founded with the goal of public accountability," She said, slapping her fist down on the table in emphasis, "We can't be involved if any of the funds go to the Military."

She said all this with a straight face, to him, to the Director, to the Mayor, to the dozen staff members in the meeting room. All with a straight face. He could see how she won court cases.

He was sitting to the right of the Director, who was at the head of the table, with Mayor to the left, with Carol sitting two seats down from Andrew. It was two seats too close.

"Brandish; Mrs. Dallon" Mayor Christner quickly corrected himself at the frown that appeared on Carol Dallon's deceptively attractive face.

"Surely you realize that this benefits everyone."

Appeal to reason.

Her face tightened, "It benefits the PRT and its associates."

Appeal to reason failed.

"Yes, and what benefits the PRT and it's associates benefits Brockton Bay."

"The Youth Guard benefits no one in Brockton Bay," She shot back.

The Director made as though to say something, but needn't have bothered, the mayor beating her to the punch.

"That's hardly something the PRT can change," he pointed out, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. Andrew noticed that the Mayors hand was gripping his coffee cup quite tightly.

A fact that the Director probably noticed too as she picked now too join the conversation.

"Unfortunately Mrs. Dallon, the Mayor is right." The Director straightened up in her seat. "The Youth Guard is joined to the PRT on a Federal level, mandated down through the state to the local authorities which dictate how funding is used."

A smile formed on her lips, her visage momentarily taking on the appearance of a wolf.

"Only the Mayor can change the way the funding's spent."

Her work presumably done, the Director slumped back in her seat, her smile fading back into its customary blank expression.  
Andrew in the meanwhile was doing his very best not to scowl. He thought he was succeeding, though it may just have been that no one was paying any attention to him.

It was just like Director Piggot to throw gas on the fire. For a person who thought all capes were untrustworthy she certainly wasn't showing much solitary with the Mayor.

Don't get him wrong, it was a smart move politically, the Youth Guard was a thorn in their side even without counting in the small percentage of funding they took from PRT.

Still he thought, propping his head in his hands, ignoring the sharp glare that the Director gave him (if she wasn't going to be subtle then neither was he.), it wouldn't have been nice of her not to phrase it as an attack.

Granted he doubted that the Mayor would hold it against her, being long accustomed to Emily's personality or lack of it. Still, it didn't help that she had effectively pitted Mrs. Dallon and Mayor Christner against each other, and that Andrew would most likely be the one dealing with the fallout. It was Piggots method, she started the fire, and he had to put it out. It was horribly unfair, but that was just the way it was. He would have to deal with it.

He supposed that meant he'd better start paying attention then. He raised his head up from beneath his arms, swallowing back the yawn that threatened to come out of his mouth.

The Director herself stood, gaining the attention of everyone present, Mayor Christner and Mrs. Dallon momentarily stopping their fight to here what she had to say.

"Gentlemen," she deadpanned addressing the room, "Mrs. Dallon, Mayor Christner" she nodded to each of them in turn. It struck him that she didn't address him, as a gentlemen. As if he wasn't important, he was sooooo important. He was the main character of this zoo yard.

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave this meeting early. I have a dialysis screening that my secretary forgot to inform me off."

She gave an apologetic smile at the assembly, though it held no warmth.  
"In the interest of finish this matter however, and acknowledging that both the Mayor and Mrs. Dallon's time is highly valuable," she nodded  
at Andrew "Vice Director Matthews will sit in my stead."

She raised her hand to cut off the flurry of questions that the assembled were giving.

"Any decision he makes," here she gestured to him, at the same time giving him a look, "I make."

That said, she left, ignoring the questions some of the attendants were asking her, leaving Andrew, one again, to clean up her messes.

Matthew himself didn't bother, choosing instead to use the time to try to remember what they were last talking about.

"Something to do with the percentage … college drop outs?"

He frowned, that couldn't be right., college drop outs had nothing to do with the problem of the Youth Guard getting their funding cut.

A chill went down his spine, he suddenly realized that everyone was looking at him.

He immediately started to sweat. What to do, what to do, what to do. It hit him.

Fake it.

Plan found, he relaxed. Shuffling the papers in front of him he took stock of the situation. What he saw was a mess of paper work they hadn't even begun to (probably, he wasn't to certain) get to because of Carol Dallon's objections. What a mess, it was going to take them all day to get through this at the rate they were (probably) going. Ugh, he was going to be having take out again tonight.

Just like every other night.

Why did he have this job again?

He'd remember later, right now he had work to do.

He looked up from the documents, he was pretending to look through. It was time to end this before he started flipping ships in the bay.

Again.

"Hendrick" he said, gesturing to a short, blond haired man sitting at the other end of the table, a probable member of the Empire 88 and the note taker for this conference.

"Could you please give us a rundown of the meeting."

Carol Dallon and the Mayor were both giving him odd looks at his request. He ignored them, using his long fostered iron will, honed from denying himself from commenting in anime debates, don't go there, to focusing on the probable Pillow Head in the corner.

"Uh, which parts?" Hendrick asked, pushing his glasses up on his face even as he clicked something on his computer with the other one.

"All of it" he answered, he had no clue what had been happening for the last ten minutes and needed someone to fill him in.

"Yes" Hendrick nodded, making a few more clicking sounds before beginning to recite the meeting. It took two minutes and wasn't overly detailed. Just the opening statement, purpose of the meeting, introduction of all the pertinent people present (he wasn't mentioned, the nerve), and then the funding.

Here was where the road got bumpy, ended even, Carol had chaining herself to the metaphorical building and started making demands. He got more detailed from there starting with identifying her problem with the fund raiser beneficiaries, her statement about the lack of benefit the Youth Guard brought, Piggots comment, and the rest was just her and the Mayor arguing about why he couldn't drop the Youth Guard as a beneficiary.

There was a lot of technical information there, armed with statistics and data that no one here was ever going to check up on, but really it all boiled down that cutting the Youth Guard out of the budget would make the Mayor look bad.

…"Mrs. Dallon demanded that Mayor Christner provide her the statistics for those drop out rates, which the Mayor declined to do.  
Hendricks took a breath.

"Director Piggot left due to a health appointment, placing Vice Director Matthews in charge,

Vice Director Matthews asked for a summery of the meeting to be done, which I did."

Hendricks finished.

What a mess. Dallon was behaving exactly like a lawyer, and the Mayor was behaving exactly like a politician, it was like he was reliving the high school debate club all over again.

Well no more, he wasn't staying here all night arguing whether Hinata was better than Sakura again, don't go there, he had a season of Paint Drying to watch when he got home.

It was time to shake this meeting. To use a weapon seldom seen or even heard of in most political circles,

Wait for it –

Honesty.

He turned to Mrs. Dallon.

"Mrs. Dallon, can we have your support for fundraising if the Youth Guard benefits."

She lifted jaw at him, "no" she answered.

He turned to the Mayor.

"Mayor Christner, are you willing to cut the PRT obligation to supply funding to the Youth Guard?"

The Mayor looked uncomfortable at the question.

Matthews bit down a sigh as the Mayer answered.

"There are a lot of benefits of the."

Matthews cut him off.

"Will you stop the funding of the Youth Guard from the PRT."

There was silence for a moment as the Mayor lowered his head, his grip so hard on the coffee cup that Matthews was amazed it didn't shatter.

He lifted his head, "no" he said, the answer coming out through slightly clenched teeth.

Now they were getting somewhere.

He slapped his hands together, producing a purposely loud clap that he knew annoyed people.

"We're at an impasse then. New Wave won't do any fundraisers with the PRT without Mrs. Dallons go ahead, and Mrs. Dallon won't give that go ahead unless the PRT is released from is mandatory funding of the Youth Guard.

"The PRT's hands are tied so unless either of you are willing to give" at this a no and a head shake came from Mrs. Dallon and the Mayor,

"we might as well end this meeting."

There was silence for a few moments as people took the words in. Andrew used those moments to surreptitiously reheat his hot chocolate, taking a sip from his hot, but not too hot; hot chocolate.

Dallon, Mayor, your serve.

He watched as they began to talk among themselves, the klux clown seeming frustrated at his inability to keep up. Don't worry Hendrick, no one checking your notes anyway.

Finally, a suggestion came out, an accountant, he immediately forgot his name, suggested that they should have separate events made exclusively for the Youth Guard.

This would allow the Youth Guard to get their relatively small, but still manditory funding, while still allowing the the PRT to make bank on other fundraisers with New Wave.

Of course Carol still had to put up a fuss, her my way or you can leave mentality rearing it's head, but eventually she caved. The PRT would have a smaller fundraiser for the Youth Guard centered around the mayor and his affiliated, and a larger more public fundraiser with New Wave and the Mayor that didn't go to the Youth Guard.

Finally, they were getting somewhere. He might even be able to get out for lunch instead of having to settle for the overpriced McFries meal that they served in the lobby.

Only they still had to get through the packet of funding information. It would take hours. It was 10:45 A.M.

He sighed, better get started now or they wouldn't get done before dinner. He allowed the Senior accountant to take over, starting to name the main funding sponsors.

"… Are the Asian Gardeners going to be participating in the event, they're well known to be a laundering pit for the Azian Bad Boys and I…" Carol droned on.

Matthews dropped his head in his hands, heedless of the stares he was getting.

A mile away, deep in the bay, hidden by twenty feet of water a tug boat imploded, causing a small vortex as the water moved to fill the void, the water spending out a slight spray, drenching people at the boardwalk and causing some people to close their shop for the day.

In the meeting, sitting with his head in his hands, Vice Director Matthews smiled. Director Piggot could deal with that.


End file.
